Did our pact endure?

I have a lot of very odd anniversaries, each its own marker of the progress of my life. Most are days when something happened—most, but not all. Twenty-three years ago day, Nigel and I made a pact with a friend of ours, one that none of us completed by the “due date”. I’m now the only one left who might still fulfill the pact we made, however late it may be. That one fact outweighs everything else about the pact.

On Friday, April 14, 2000—twenty-three years ago to the very day—Nigel and I were carpooling home with a friend of ours, Sandra, and we decided to stop and pick up some Indian takeaways. There was a wait, so we just chatted while the food was cooked (we may have stopped for a drink at a nearby pub, something I know we did at least once). Somehow or other we got on the topic of goals, and we all talked about wanting to write a book.

That evening, all three of us agreed that by April 14, 2010 we had to have a book written and ready to publish. I added the anniversary to my calendar, noting that the book “doesn't have to actually be published, it just has to be ready.” None of us achieved that.

Nigel originally met Sandra because they worked together, and we all became friends for a lot of reasons, especially our mutual love of Star Trek and science fiction generally. For a time, Nigel used to rent the latest episodes of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and also Star Trek: Voyager—on video cassette (!), no less. There was a video store in the Ponsonby area of Auckland that imported the cassettes from the USA, and they arrived not long after they aired in the USA, but long before they aired in New Zealand.

However, those cassettes weren’t officially released in New Zealand, and the rights-holder (Paramount) maintained an iron grip on release schedules. They demanded that the NZ government outlaw the importation for sale or rental of movies or TV programmes until after they’d been officially released in New Zealand. The government acquiesced (not for the last time), and our “Star Trek Nights” ended.

Sandra bought a house in the same area where we lived at the time, and we carpooled to and from the Auckland CBD together for quite some time (her cat and our cat became best friends, and often napped together on our roof). In 2003, Nigel and I moved to Paeroa, and we returned to Auckland in 2006. Over time, we all had job and life changes, and had less to do with each other. Still, we went to Sandra’s wedding, and she and her husband came to our 2009 Civil Union ceremony (we got married in 2013, only four family members present).

Sandra was diagnosed with motor neurone disease, and it claimed her the year before Nigel died from cancer. I don’t know whether Sandra ever started her book, but I know that Nigel at least started making some notes, though I don’t know what he did with them—I haven’t found anything yet. All I know for certain is that I started several books over those years, and finished none of them.

Every year at this time I’m reminded of the pact because the calendar alert pops up on my devices. I’m pretty sure that I’m the only one of us who remembered (because of all those life changes). For many years those reminders weren’t that big a deal, but after Sandra died, the calendar alert made me sad, and that was ramped up to a whole new level after Nigel died. This year, though, with another year’s time and distance, I looked at the actual calendar item and was reminded that the pact was made on a Friday—and I’ve made pretty clear that I like symmetry and alignment of anniversaries. That would be reason enough for me to talk about the pact for the first time.

So, it’s now Friday, April 14, 2023, twenty-three years to the very day after three friends made a somewhat light-hearted pact to write a book, and I’m the only one of us left who might, theoretically, still manage it. That reality weighs heavily on me. To be bluntly honest, right now the possibility I might actually fulfill our mutual promise seems more distant than ever.

I have a lot of very odd anniversaries, each its own marker of the progress of my life. Twenty-three years ago day, Nigel and I made what was a mostly light-hearted pact with a dear friend of ours, and I’m now the only one left who might still honour the promise. That one fact outweighs everything else about the pact. That part’s not odd at all.